From punk to punch line

If you knew Will Lopez from his other gig – frontman for Cuban punk rock act Guajiro – you probably wouldn’t think of the guy as having much of a sense of humor. Sure, Guajiro’s songs can have a wickedly funny streak – the group’s song that references Fidel Castro having a beard made of pubic hair springs immediately to mind – but for the most part, Guajiro is known for rage more than hilarity. And yet, two years ago, Lopez started doing standup open mics. Recently, he was selected to participate in the World Series of Comedy in Las Vegas, one of only two local comedians to be selected. We asked him how he managed to pull that one off, and what else he has planned in his burgeoning comedy career.

First off, tell me what the World Series of Comedy is.

The World Series of Comedy was set up by a touring comic, Joe Lowers. It’s kind of like a comic’s comic type of convention, all these people that are very respected in the comic community. It’s not your average contest. Normally, at contests like this, you might win a couple shows or what have you, but this guy has connections at most prominent comedy clubs across the country, and so the winner gets basically a tour – 52 weeks of work. It’s like Last Comic Standing, where you win a big prize. The winner gets to be a comic for a year, so it’s a very respected contest in comedy circles.

How did you get in?

I applied. You submit to be a part of the festival and if you pay that fee, you’re allowed to go to the seminars, a poker tournament and a bunch of other fun stuff. With that entry fee, you write a little bit of résumé and submit a five minute reel, and they pick. I don’t know how many people submit, but they picked 101.

And you’ve only been doing this a couple of years?

It was two years in May, so two years and a few months. Which is like nothing. It’s absurd. Jerry Seinfeld in Comedian said what made him into a standup comic was just getting up onstage. When he was living in New York, he could get up on two or three stages a night. So he talked about once there was a place called Streak where he went up for 530-plus nights inManhattan, two or three nights a week for a year and a half. I am starting this so late. I’m married, I’ve got three kids, a mortgage, a punk rock band, so I’ve been doing this two years, but I only do it when the time allows me to.

That was actually my first question when I heard you were doing standup. How did you even wind up doing this with everything else?

First off, I was playing in Guajiro, the economy took a downturn, so I had to really focus myself and my life on getting us through this patch we were going through. I had to cancel tours and put Guajiro on the backburner. But one of the great things about that band is that I know I can play in that the rest of my life. But I needed a creative outlet during that sabbatical. So, my wife went out of town, and I went to a comedy show at the Hard Rock, Doug Benson. I just showed up, paid, sat down and watched the show. And I saw this really cute girl, Lisa Corrao, opening. I started talking to her after the show and I had assumed that, like music, she was a part of the tour. But that’s not the way it works. In comedy, the host is almost always local. So, I started talking to her and I was fascinated by this, and she was so kind about it and said I should come to this open mic two days later in Lake Worth. So I got in my car and was thinking of all these bits, and next thing you know, I’m at the Rum Shack. And I bombed.

Photo by Beth Black

What made you keep going after crapping out the first time?

If she wouldn’t have been as cool as she was, and if I hadn’t noticed the communal aspect of it all, especially in South Florida – there’s this amazing sense of camaraderie, which is exactly what I’ve always loved about punk rock. And there’s a better comedy scene than music scene in South Florida, in my opinion. So I tried again, got a couple of laughs, and that was it. I was hooked for good. There’s nothing better than connecting with people in the audience, having people sing your lyrics back to you, that communal aspect is why I love playing in Guajiro. In comedy, it’s even more immediate. You’re up there talking, you’re by yourself, and if you have an off night, you’re screwed. To me, there’s something I really get off on in that, trying to entertain a group of people with something that makes them think, not just telling dick jokes.

It seems like a long road from that to the World Series of Comedy.

The first contest I ever entered, I came in second place and I kept writing and doing open mics, and that was it. I headlined my first show about a month ago and did about 35 minutes time, which was a lot for me. After that, another comic told me to apply for the World Series, and I said you’ve gotta be joking, but I said what the hell, I went online and got the application about 11 p.m. when the deadline was midnight. August 2 I got an e-mail that I was in, and I was pretty shocked.

What do you get out of comedy that you didn’t get out of Guajiro?

For me personally, my comedy can be more mainstream and I don’t feel like a sellout. I play in a Cuban punk band. I opened for Sick Of It All, Agnostic Front, Flogging Molly, Rancid. I don’t think it’s bad that I can now do shows that my mom and dad can appreciate and enjoy. My whole artistic career, they’ve never appreciated what I’m doing, but now my grandmother can come to my shows and laugh. I’ m not saying that’s why I do it, but it’s kind of nice that what I’m doing now can be appreciated by a larger group of people.

What’s the difference between comedians and musicians?

The comedy scene here is so helpful. Comics will come up to you and say, try this on that punchline, or add this tag. In music, no one could care less. They only care about what they are doing. And it wouldn’t work anyway. If you told a band, "Hey, that chorus could use a different chord change," they’d look at you like you have three heads.

The World Series of Comedy will take place through Saturday in Las Vegas — you will not be attending.